


Observation

by INMH



Series: Merry Month of Masturbation Fills (2018) [9]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Dirty Talk, Drama, M/M, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Power Dynamics, Sexual Content, Strong Language, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-02 12:30:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14544777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: Jacob walks in on Pratt...misbehaving; fortunately, the Deputy’s learned how to navigate the choppy waters of their dynamic.





	Observation

**Author's Note:**

> Alex_Rainbow13 has done a Russian translation of this fic right here: https://ficbook.net/readfic/6968462

Deputy Pratt had been trapped in the Whitetails for almost two months now, and he was furthest away from cracking than he’d been in a while.  
  
It was amazing, really: The human mind and body could find a way to adjust for anything so long as it was required for survival. Oh, Pratt didn’t delude himself into thinking he was stronger, the way Jacob would have liked him to be, because he could feel the ropes tying his mind together fraying every second of every minute of every hour, and it was only a matter of time before he unraveled entirely. He was surviving for now, but with too much more pressure he would snap; if the pressure were removed, his entire infrastructure would collapse.  
  
It was a bad time.  
  
So he could be forgiven for behaving a little strangely.  
  
On this particular evening, Pratt was alone in the small room he shared with Jacob. It was a bit like being kept as a pet, really; the only thing he was missing was a lead that attached to the wall, and he wasn’t about to give Jacob any ideas. The man in question was off somewhere doing fuck-knows-what, and for the first time in a long time, Pratt had a few minutes alone. Escape wasn’t as much of a possibility as he would like to believe at the moment, and the cost of being caught would outweigh the benefits; and so, stewing in his own anxiety and shame, Pratt stayed where he was, curled up on his side on the small cot.  
  
Sleep came easily enough, because when you’ve been underfed and overworked for weeks, exhaustion settled in so much easier. It was the dreams that made Pratt nervous: The nightmares made him scream himself awake (which inevitably led to taunts from Jacob) and the good dreams made him want to weep when he awoke and was forced to confront his dismal reality. Sleeping would have been so much more bearable without the dreams.  
  
Tonight, however, was distressing in a different way.  
  
One minute Pratt was dozing, and the next he was waking from a dead sleep, drowsy and uncomfortable in a way he couldn’t pinpoint. Was he hurt? No. Was he feeling sick? No, not that either.  
  
And then… Then Pratt shifted around a bit, felt something a little further south than he’d expected, and then… Then he got it.  
  
_Fuck._  
  
What was he, a teenager? He hadn’t had a wet-dream in _years._ Really, Pratt couldn’t even remember what the dream was about, couldn’t recall anything but feeling vaguely uncomfortable until he’d woken up. He raised his head, looked around the room, and was relieved to confirm that Jacob wasn’t there; the only thing that could make this worse would be Jacob’s reaction to Pratt waking up hard.  
  
**_Fuck._  
**   
He tried to put that image out of his mind. It wasn’t helping.  
  
The smart thing to do would be to roll over and ignore the hard-on until it went away. The quick, easy, and much more satisfying thing to do would be to take care of it the way he would if he were at home, safe in the private walls of his house and bedroom.  
  
But Pratt wasn’t at home.  
  
He was in the base of operations- nay, the very _bedroom_ \- of a man who could be completely unpredictable. Just when Pratt thought he had a bead on the guy, just when he thought he had at least _some_ part of Jacob nailed down, the guy shook things up again and he was left at a loss. Small wonder his mind was slowly crumbling to pieces, melting in his skull and leaving him feeling crazier and crazier.  
  
The ache between his legs was persistent and so much stronger than it ought to have been, and Pratt was ( _weak weak weak_ ) so, so tired, and he just couldn’t muster up self-control tonight. He threw the thin blanket on his cot over his waist for the illusion of privacy, of safety, and awkwardly tugged his belt loose and pushed down his jeans and underwear. Just being exposed beneath the blanket was overwhelming, and Pratt sucked in a deep breath, eyes falling shut.  
  
_Okay, okay, can’t draw it out- just get it done._  
  
It was rough without proper lubrication, and Pratt could only slow down the strokes a bit to make it work- but by _God_ it felt good. He let loose a long sigh and settled back into the bed, trying to allow himself a moment, just a moment to relax, to pretend that everything after that helicopter ride and the Church of Eden’s Gate hadn’t happened, that he was back in his own bed without a care in the world; or at least nothing unimaginably difficult.  
  
He let himself make a little noise, trying to convince himself not to be paranoid, that Jacob wasn’t there and that he would never know this was happening. Pratt would relieve himself, clean himself up, and it would be as though it had never happened. Jacob never had to know.  
  
“Oh my goodness.”  
  
Pratt heard the voice, and his balls damn near shriveled up and retreated back into his body.  
  
_Of course._  
  
_Of **fucking** course._  
  
_When the fuck else did you expect him to walk in?_  
  
He only barely managed to resist the urge to curl in on himself, because that would be a sign of weakness, and that would make this end so badly for him, because Jacob Seed does not respect cowardice; he punished it with great prejudice, and he would punish Pratt too if he didn’t play his cards right.  
  
Pratt forced himself to make eye-contact with Jacob, hand stilling on his cock but not letting go. Jacob was leaning against the doorframe, looking utterly relaxed and untroubled. He shook his head, clucked his tongue before saying, “Deputy, Deputy, Deputy. I leave you alone for a little while, just a few hours, and you turn into a randy little slut who can’t keep his hands off himself. Now, why am I not more shocked by this?”  
  
_Probably because you’ve been looking at my ass since I got here, and you project like a motherfucker._  
  
Pratt blinked, took a deep breath. “I can stop, if you want.” The key to successfully navigating this power dynamic between them was to submit, to give Jacob the impression that Pratt would do whatever was asked of him- occasionally, however, Pratt had found that very, _very_ small pieces of limited disobedience pleased Jacob too. It seemed to _excite_ him when Pratt disobeyed in tiny, less consequential ways. Pratt was hardly a psychologist, but he’d figured out by now that he was the kind of person who wanted obedience, but got bored with it too when they were too compliant.  
  
It always felt more certain when he wasn’t in the moment.  
  
But what else could he do?  
  
“No, no,” Jacob said mildly, “Go right ahead! Would hate to see you frustrated, Peaches.”  
  
Pratt could have done exactly that, no more, no less, but instead he pushed the blanket away, allowing Jacob’s gaze to rove over his bared stomach, his thighs, his cock. He gave Jacob something he hadn’t asked for, something that made a good situation even better for both of them: Jacob was pleased, and when Jacob was pleased, things went a lot better for Pratt.

He did his best not to appear nervous, which was difficult when one was masturbating in front of another person; more so when that person was a man who had complete control over one’s life. Pratt started stroking again, and he shut his eyes, trying to work himself up again; the surprise of Jacob’s appearance had caused his erection to flag slightly, but being watched seemed to allow him to get it back to former arousal quicker than expected.  
  
Pratt heard footsteps, heard Jacob walking across the wooden floor of the room, and he forced himself not to open his eyes. Like most alpha-predators, Jacob could smell fear and its insidious companion, weakness, and Pratt would not, _could_ not, let him smell it on him. The weak had their purpose, but it was not a desirable purpose, and Pratt’s survival depended on Jacob thinking that he was anything but weak. The thin mattress of the cot dipped as Jacob sat down, and Pratt drew in a slow, deep breath. _Calm, calm, calm, stay calm, stay calm, don’t-_  
  
A hand settled on his neck, on his throat. “Look at me.”  
  
Pratt opened his eyes without a second’s hesitation and looked Jacob in the eye. Jacob’s thumb brushed over the pulse in Pratt’s neck, pressing lightly, testing for a reaction; Pratt’s was to lean into it, to buck his hips a little as though he found it sexy rather than concerning. He’d never been into choking during sex, and he seriously hoped that Jacob wasn’t either, that this was just another in a long line of power-plays designed to remind Pratt who was in charge. He was relieved when, after a long moment, Jacob took his hand from his throat and moved it to his lower stomach, dangerously close to his cock.  
  
“So what brought this on, Peaches?” Jacob asked, fingers pressing into Pratt’s skin. “You going into heat, or did you just get an itch?”  
  
It was becoming progressively more difficult to control his breathing, and Pratt began to pant quietly. “I- I fell asleep. I had a dream.”  
  
“About what?” Jacob’s fingers inched just a bit lower. “Getting a glory-hole blowjob? Pounding your ex-girlfriend? Fucking yourself on your favorite dildo?”  
  
Pratt gulped a breath; those sorts of mental images were powerful, as horny as he was at that moment. “I d-d-don’t remember, I just, just woke up and-” He trailed off, shrugging awkwardly.  
  
Jacob snorted. “You woke up stiff? Fuck, Pratt, what are you, fifteen?”  
  
Pratt flushed. “It hasn’t happened for a long time.” He shuddered deeply when Jacob’s fingers probed around his groin, bumping Pratt’s hands and ( _ever_ so slightly) his cock. “Fuck,” he groaned, hips twitching.  
  
“You gonna come?” Jacob chuckled. “Good, that’s good. Enjoy your little jerk-fest for whatever it gives you. When you’re done, I think I’m gonna flip you over and fuck your ass for you, show you what it feels like to be fucked by a man. You’ll never touch yourself again, Staci- it’ll never measure up to how it felt when you were on my cock. You’ll wait until I’m with you again and you’ll beg me to pound your ass. How about _that_ , Pratt? You like that idea?”  
  
If the suggestions Jacob had made before had stimulated Pratt, these ones had wrapped their metaphorical lips around his dick and sucked him off. He came with a hoarse sound, twisting his shoulders and half-pressing his face into the pillow as his hips bucked and shuddered against the cot, as semen spurted onto the blanket, the mattress, his stomach, his shirt.  
  
_I want him to do that,_ Pratt thought, bewildered. _I want him to fuck me. Holy fuck, I want him to **fuck** me._  
  
Was this a trick? Had this been some subtle thing that had been conditioned into him without him realizing it? He hadn’t heard ‘Only You’ for a while, but Jacob was hardly a one-trick pony- he had other ways of warping peoples’ minds. Or was Pratt maybe further down the rabbit-hole than he’d realized?  
  
Jacob’s eyes burned into his when Pratt rolled over, turned to face him again. A quick glance downward confirmed that Jacob was hard now, bulging in his cargo pants. Pratt’s mouth went dry. “Do you-” He hesitated, licked his lips. “-do you want me to take care of that?” He told himself it was sweetening the pot, endearing himself to Jacob in one of the few ways he could while still being damnably weak, and not because he was growing more and more curious about what the older man’s cock would feel like in his mouth, down his throat.  
  
A long, rumbling sigh left Jacob’s chest. Pratt was reminded of the Judges, perfectly obedient and controlled in their behaviors even as they yearned to attack, only the special conditioning of their masters restraining them from total savagery. If Jacob’s self-control were not as finely tuned as it was, if he didn’t feel a need to prove to himself and everyone else how utterly in-control he was, Pratt knew he would have been flipped over and fucked by now.  
  
But Jacob was always perfectly in control. Always.  
  
“Why yes, Pratt,” Jacob said smoothly, the big bad wolf luring his victim in with his charm and his _smile,_ spreading his legs and reaching for his belt. “I think I’d like that. Thank you _so_ much.”  
  
_Fuck,_ Pratt thought weakly as he pushed himself up and leaned forward. _I am so fucked._  
   
-End


End file.
